


Flying Papers

by mk_tortie



Category: Ballet Shoes - Noel Streatfeild
Genre: F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Yuletide Treat, tea fixes everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_tortie/pseuds/mk_tortie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the war, Petrova runs into Winifred by chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying Papers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kwritten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/gifts).



To passers-by, the Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training probably did not look all that prepossessing. It was in fact three large houses, joined on the inside, and stood on a square in Bloomsbury which had once been rather grand, but was now missing buildings on two sides. Where once the Academy’s name had been written in large gold letters across the front, now several of the letters were missing, and others were upside down, so that it now read “Ch ə s cademy D d Stag ing.” On this particularly blustery Monday morning, the “D” swung ominously in the wind, and that, along with the general state of the square, would have suggested to anyone unfamiliar with the area that it was abandoned, like so many other London buildings since the war had begun.

They might, therefore, have been surprised to see a brown-haired girl, tall, thin, and somewhat sallow-faced, step from the door beneath the “ing” with several packages and a stack of papers tied up hastily in string. As she stepped onto the pavement, a gust caught the papers and scattered them playfully across the pavement.

“Oh, drat!” Winifred cried vehemently, and scrabbled to pick them up. “Not today!” Today was her first day as an official teacher at the Academy, after the school where she had previously taught English had been bombed and the children evacuated. Now, she was officially both the beginners’ and intermediate ballet teacher where she herself had once learned dancing, acting, and singing, as well as the daytime teacher of everything but Mathematics. Madame Fidolia had decided that, due to the war, it was necessary for the Academy to cover more than just theatrical education, particularly since the children could not stay very late in the evening due to the black-out.

Most of the papers were easy to gather up, but one sheet curled up in the wind and danced off the pavement, and into the road. Winifred was about to leap out and capture it, mentally cursing her bad luck all the while, when a foot, clad in a sensible brown leather shoe, came down and stopped it from flying further. Looking up, she was stunned to discover it belonged to a very familiar face - one she had not expected to see here again.

“Hello Winifred,” said Petrova. “Are you all right?” She stepped out of the road and handed Winifred the runaway sheet of paper, and Winifred looked up, startled. Petrova was wearing a blue uniform, smartly cut and belted, with trousers instead of a skirt and a pilot’s insignia on the jacket. Her hair had been bobbed short, but otherwise her face was just as Winifred remembered, for all it had been several years since they had last seen one another.

“Petrova!” she said, surprised. Of all of the Fossil sisters, Petrova was the last one she had expected to show up at the Academy again - her dislike of dancing and acting were no real secret to anyone who had known the sisters well, and Winifred had counted herself as knowing them better than most. She and Pauline still exchanged letters when they could, although the post took a long time between America and London these days. “Did you want to see Madame?” she asked, curiously.

Petrova laughed, and looked a little embarrassed. “Actually, I was just picking something up nearby for Gum, and I thought I would wander past and check that the Academy was still standing,” she explained. “I’d have thought you would have all been evacuated!”

“Gum?” Winifred said, confused.

“Great Uncle Matthew,” Petrova said. “We always called him Gum for short. Well, he’s Garnie’s Great Uncle, really. But anyway, how are you? I didn’t expect to see you here! Are you still dancing?”

Winifred smiled. “Not on the stage - I was too tall for the parts, really.” An impulse struck her, and she spoke before she could regret it. “Say, are you staying in London? It would be wonderful to catch up, properly, I mean.”

Petrova looked surprised, but smiled. “I am, actually. I was here to sign up, last week, and get my uniform made” she gestured down to her clothing, “but Gum asked me to collect some things for him while I was in town, and so I stayed overnight with a friend in Hammersmith.”

“Well, maybe we could meet later? There’s a tea shop nearby that opens until 6, and I don’t need to be at the Academy after 4,” Winifred said hurriedly, feeling oddly nervous.

Petrova nodded. “Why not? I still have a few things to do today. Where’s the tea shop?”

“Just behind the British Museum,” Winifred said. She paused, shifting her papers and packages, unsure exactly why she felt rattled by meeting Petrova like this. “Well, I’ll see you later then,” she said, somewhat awkwardly.

“See you later!” Petrova said cheerfully, and walked away, whistling. Winifred watched her leave until she turned a corner, noting how well the Petrova suited the A.T.A. uniform trousers.

—

The wind had not died down by the time Petrova arrived to meet Winifred, and she rubbed her hands together against the chill as she walked around the side of the museum to where the tea shop stood, sandwiched between two bookshops, one boarded-up, but the other still doing some kind of business. The tea shop itself looked cosy, and seemed to so far have escaped any damage from the bombs, and as Petrova pushed open the door, she spotted Winifred, looking somewhat harried in a chair by the window, a pot of tea and two cups on a table in front of her.

“Hallo again,” Petrova said, stepping over and joining her.

“Oh, Petrova,” Winifred said, looking relieved. “I thought I was too late and had missed you! It was my first day back at the Academy today, and Madame asked me to stay behind, and of course I couldn’t say no….”

Petrova put her hand on Winifred’s, surprising both of them with the gesture. “Don’t worry about it! I’m the one who's late - I forgot to wind my watch this morning.” She pulled her hand back and changed the subject, trying to put Winifred at ease. “You know, it’s marvellous to see you. I hadn’t thought that I would see anyone I knew while I was here!”

Winifred’s cheeks went pink, and she gave Petrova a small smile. “You have no idea how frightfully glad I was to see you this morning, either.”

Petrova remembered what Winifred had said. “It was your first day today, at the Academy? Are you teaching there?”

While Petrova poured the tea, Winifred explained what had happened to her school, and how Madame Fidolia had found her work at the Academy as a full-time teacher so that she wouldn’t have to leave London. “She said that teaching was as important as other kinds of war work,” she concluded, and looked at Petrova. “Although seeing you in uniform, I’m not so sure. And the Air Transport Auxiliary! That’s awfully exciting.”

It was Petrova’s turn to blush a little. “I didn’t think people would recognize the uniform. There are only two dozen of us girls signed up, right now.”

Winifred looked suitably impressed. “Golly, that is brave of you, Petrova!”

Petrova shrugged. “I think teaching children is far braver, you know - I don’t think I could stand it for five minutes! And the A.T.A. is only useful while the war is on - what you’re doing is useful forever.” Her face lit up. “But oh, Winifred, you can’t imagine how wonderful it is, to be flying an aeroplane, feeling the hum of the engine beneath you and the wind howling past! Up in the clouds, and looking down on everyone below - the world just looks like a model, like something out of the Victoria and Albert!” She cupped her teacup in her hands. “You know, I never really understood what Posy meant when she talked about dancing, until I flew for the first time. But now I think I understand - the freedom, and feeling like every move the plane makes is in my control. It’s just tremendous.”

Winifred smiled, a little wistfully. “Oh, I know. That’s how I feel when I dance, too. It’s a shame I wasn’t shorter, really!”

Petrova looked at her sympathetically. “You’re a very good actress, too. Pauline told me about when you auditioned for Alice - she was sure you would get it, rather than her.”

Winifred sighed. “It wasn’t meant to be, I suppose. Pauline _looked_ like an Alice. Well, she looked right for everything, really.”

“Did you not think to join a ballet company, like Posy?” Petrova asked.

Winifred laughed, but there was a bitter note in it. “Oh, Petrova, you really were never a dancer! I’m far too tall.” She shrugged, and looked down into her tea. “No, I had to realize eventually that it wasn’t for me, being on the stage. So I went to university, and then trained as a teacher, and now here I am.” She gave a small, tight smile. “I never stopped dancing, of course. I don’t think I ever could! But now it’s just for me, or for teaching.”

Petrova looked at Winifred, who was biting on her lip with suppressed emotion, and suddenly felt a surge of sympathetic affection for her. Winifred had always been friendly and generous to them as children, even though it had been quite clear that she had lost out on roles, and even more importantly, income, because of Pauline, and even because of Petrova herself, for _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and Mustardseed, She had always been the closest friend they had had, aside from each other. But, Petrova realized now - Winifred had never had a Pauline or a Posy for herself.

She reached out her hand and touched Winifred’s long, elegant fingers, deliberately this time. “You know, I really am glad to see you,” she said. “I missed you, you know.” And she had. Not as much as her sisters, but still. Their world had changed when they had all been separated and the house had been sold. While she wouldn’t have changed flying for more dancing for all the world, that world had been left with several people-shaped holes in it, some more obvious than others.

Winifred looked up from her tea cup, and stopped biting her lip and she saw the expression on Petrova’s face. “Really?” she said, sounding strangely hopeful. She drew a breath, as if about to say something, but paused. Petrova squeezed her hand.

“You know, I always felt like you and I were similar, somehow,” Winifred said, eventually, her voice so quiet that Petrova had to lean forward to hear her. “There was Pauline, striding ahead, and you and I behind, never quite as good.” She smiled at Petrova, her eyes glittering. “And here you are now, flying around the country, and I’m making my career in dancing, even if it’s not quite how I imagined!”

Winifred had always been so good at making the best of things, so positive, Petrova recalled. She returned Winifred’s smile, and decided to share a family secret. “You know, my sisters and I always vowed we would try and get the name Fossil into the history books, because nobody could say it was because of our grandfathers or something like that." That made Winifred truly smile, and Petrova went on: "Well, once Pauline got the offer from the studio in Hollywood, and Posy went to join the Marmaro ballet, they agreed it had to be me, in the history books, because who ever heard of an actor or a ballet dancer being there?" She laughed. "So I've been doing my best to do my bit for our vow, although the war has got in the way a bit."

She broke off, and looked at Winifred seriously. "But, you know, you're teaching the next generation, I'm flying aeroplanes for the war effort... We're both doing things that could get us in the history books one day, maybe. And that's really something. What you're doing now - Madame's right. It really is important."

Winifred drew in breath sharply, and gripped Petrova's hand, leaning forward. "I never thought of it like that," she said, softly, and smiled, slowly but genuinely. "Thank you, Petrova... Truly."

Petrova looked into her eyes, and noticed what a nice colour they were - hazel, with flecks of green. For a moment, they looked at one another - until Winifred seemed to notice how close they were, and pulled back, reddening.

The waitress interrupted anything she might have been going to say. "We'll be closing soon," she said. "That'll be sixpence, please."

Petrova finished the dregs of her tea, and set down the tea cup. "My treat," she told Winifred, firmly, and paid before she could argue. They gathered their things and walked out into the square.

"Thank you, again, Petrova," Winifred said, meaningfully, stopping and looking at Petrova. "I'm ever so glad I saw you today."

Petrova turned to her, and, impulsively, stepped forward and kissed Winifred on the cheek, embracing her. Winifred stiffened, and then leaned into the embrace. As they stepped apart, her cheeks were pink.

"I'll be back in London in a few weeks, probably," Petrova said at last. "Could we..." she paused, feeling suddenly uncertain of what, exactly, she was asking. "Could we do this again?"

A brilliant smile spread across Winifred's face. "I'd like that," she said softly. "I'd like that very much."

**Author's Note:**

> For kwritten: I realised that your main story doesn't include Petrova as much as she deserves, so I thought I would also write you this. This is the story I had in mind for her when writing the other, but couldn't work it in! I hope you enjoy it, and happy Yuletide!


End file.
